Is This How Time Normally Passes?
by Beingextremelycleveruphere
Summary: Moments in a Timelord's day can take lifetimes- an series of oneshots which take a look at various moments from Eleven's Era and what is in his head and why he says it like that or what something else makes him think. (Sorry for bad summary! It's hopefully better than I make it out to be! PS, I love reviews and I do take prompts/quotes.)
1. Chapter 1

**So, this is a new fic! It's going to be a series of one shots which focus on how the Doctor things and why and what he thinks in various points. So, I do take suggestions! They'll not be too long. 500 words plus mostly, is the plan but who knows?**

**Heather**

**x**

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_dannifielding asked you:_

_I have a suggestion for your new fic. I always liked 'Well, you say that as if it's a bad thing. But honestly, it's the best thing there is.' From the Doctor's Wife. Dunno if it's any good, but there ya go :)_

**_'Well, you say that as if it's a bad thing. But honestly, it's the best thing there is.' _**

The Doctor gave a smile at that, pausing before speaking the words. He wasn't thinking of what to say, that was not the reason for the pause. No, it was the sheer truth of them. A boy and his box, off to see the universe. And what they had seen…

They had seen so much; so many stars and so many planets. Amelia Pond's words reminded him that he was never quite lonely, no matter how much it seemed like it, in those darkest of days. He knew now, that she had always been there, always supported him, always carried him away from the pain, onto the next great adventure.

When he lost Rose, she was there to hum mournfully beside him whilst he cried. When Martha exited the TARDIS, she'd taken him to the Eye of Orion, a place he'd taken Martha, and he sat with the thermos of good tea and watched it rain. When Donna had left him, the TARDIS had let the Doctor grieve, taking him to orbit the Earth, thousands of mile above that Chiswick hill. He'd sat outside, looking at the moon in front of him, and cried. When he was facing his death, facing the Master, she was there singing his song. She'd known exactly what he needed, always; from a cup of tea to change of desktop theme. All he had endured, so had she. More in some cases. All that pain. There was an old Earth saying that briefly crossed his mind. If these walls could talk. Oh, they had. For one brief, shining adventure, they had talked. The boy and his box. She had put him first still. Always did.

That boy and his box had aged so much now, and been through so much, and he had forgotten. Forgotten how it all had started, that rush, that awe of seeing that pristine console for the first time. Talking had brought it all back. It was always them, in the end. Together till the end, definitely.

His friends will all turn to dust, they were all dust. Time was relative in the TARDIS. In some places, they weren't born; others, they were long dead. He didn't focus on it, never did, not if he could help it. But it was hard- so hard. The TARDIS, his old girl, was his one constant companion, the one that would never go away. The Doctor remembered the times he thought the TARDIS was lost to him- like with Davros and Donna was still inside. The pain and loss. All of it, almost soul destroying. To lose her forever was inconceivable to him now.

He would be nothing without his box.

So, it was the best thing, and he told Amelia Pond and Rory Williams that with a proud beam of a smile, only slightly bashful. It was the best thing ever. In the entire universe.

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**Review perhaps?**


	2. Chapter 2

**_'So, come on, then. Take mine. Take my memories.'_**

The Doctor heard the voices, rising from the asteroid that seemed so so far away now. He knew what he had to do, what he must. And the thing was, he wasn't bothered. It wasn't a heroic saving of the masses, nor a self-serving act. It was just something he had to do, what he always did. Save people, people that were ultimately more valuable and better than he was.

So, he stepped forwards, a small smile coming onto his face as he faced the light and rage of 'Grandfather'.

_Can you hear them? All these people who've lived in terror of you and your judgement? All these people whose ancestors devoted themselves, sacrificed themselves, to you. Can you hear them singing?_

This was why he never walked away. All those people, all the people. No one should act like a god, in his mind gods were petty, and those who acted as gods were. Now he wasn't frightened, no, he'd faced demigods, fake gods, even the Devil in the Pit. He wasn't going to be scared by a massive ball of gas that liked to suck out the life of its subjects. The people here were not going to live under its metaphorical thumb, giving their lives to carry on a song. Each song has to end.

_ Oh, you like to think you're a god. But you're not a god. You're just a parasite eaten out with jealousy and envy and longing for the lives of others. You feed on them. _

And in the darkest parts of his hearts, he saw himself. Too many times he had been mistaken for a god, or acted like one. Time Lord Victorious. Too many times had he lost his purpose and a darker one had taken its place, leading him off the path. He chose companions, using them to feel alive again, to see the universe as if for the first time. Make the whole of time and space and what do you have? A backyard. His voice grew in volume and power as he stared at the hateful being.

_On the memory of love_

Ponds.

_ and loss _

Donna, Rose, Jaime and Zoe.

_and birth _

Melody Pond, Susan.

_and death _

Adric, Oswin, and River.

_and joy _

New Earth, Cardiff, Eye of Orion.

_and sorrow._

Bad Wolf Bay. New York.

_So, come on, then. Take mine. Take my memories. _

He didn't care. He didn't care if it sucked him die. In some small way, he was hoping the so called god would take his memories. Take them away from him because there were nights were he just wished they would go away. It was no totally unselfish, the demand, because the memories weighed him down and kept him awake. A crushing burden.

_But I hope you've got a big appetite, because I have lived a long life and I have seen a few things._

Too long. Too vast. Sometimes he wondered why he hadn't faded away yet. 1200 years, of course he had seen things. He'd seen so much he was wondering why his mind hadn't burnt yet, why he hadn't gone mad. Perhaps it was because he was mad already. The stark contrast of living. Joy to Heartbreak.

_I walked away from the last Great Time War. I marked the passing of the Time Lords._

Burning the endless burning that he had created, it was all down to him. Take that first, he said it first so take all that away. The raw pain that dulling ache that never faded- that blood on his hands. If you could take anything- take that memory away.

_I saw the birth of the universe and I watched as time ran out, moment by moment, until nothing remained. _

All that time. From the first atoms to the last, he had seen it all. More than anyone else would ever get to see. Too much. So much it got dull.

_No time. No space. Just me. _

He was alone. He always ended up alone and he would when his existence was finally at an end. The words were raw, screaming through the melodies as the tears leaked and his entire soul was laid bare in the golden light. He always kept it hidden' never cried but now the emotion was out there for all to see. He was alone. The last like him, no one could understand. Why else would he keep it hidden? Underneath the jokes and the whimsy were secrets, endless secrets and sentences left unfinished or unstated. He was alone and no one could feel what he felt because they were all dead. There was an emptiness that would never go away.

_I walked in universes where the laws of physics were devised by the mind of a mad man. I've watched universes freeze and creations burn. _

Some universes he had caused; realities dreamed up in the darkest depths of his mind, using pollen to get their way. But that voice was still there and he hated it, hated how and why it had manifested it, hated the fact that it was _right_.

And he had watched. Watched universes die and turn to dust. Watched creation flare and fade and done nothing. He'd stood there, watching over like an archangel. Watched over and saved no one. He had just let it happen. Told himself it had to happen. And when he did, history was changed and he always made things worse.

_I've seen things you wouldn't believe. _

In his life, he was barred from nothing; the greatest joys and the most terrifying depths that existence can cultivate battered him and left him even more broken.

_I have lost things you will never understand._

No, because this monster could never feel love. No joy, no happiness, no loyalty or goodness. He'd had lost so much, so many people that he could never bring himself to count them all. He lost them, couldn't save them and they broke his hearts that it was always a surprise to him that they were still together. Still even there. Each loss was worse than regeneration and a pain that never faded, never went away no matter how fast he ran.

_ And I know things. Secrets that must never be told. Knowledge that must never be spoken. _

All encased in his mind, in the hollows and tunnels of his subconscious. Secrets; endless secrets that protected him, protected others. Knowledge that would tear this world and all others asunder. Knowledge he could not control if released. The things he had learnt could not be undone, could not be changed. It was no privilege, it was a weight pressing down on him. A prison he carried.

_Knowledge that will make parasite gods blaze. _

The words ripped him apart as he opened his arms, now practically screaming at 'Grandfather'. Take it all away. Take me away. Leave me be and let me go. It was his message to the universe. It was the Doctor; vulnerable.

_So come on, then. Take it! Take it all, baby! Have it! You have it all!_

I feel, and this is who I am because of it. This is the man that the universe made by throwing all its challenges at him. He'd survived Gallifrey, he'd run and lost and loved and fought and he was tired. He was so, so old. So they could have it . It could have it. All the pain, all the heartbreak and the ever aching loneliness.

It could have it all.

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**Okay, so this made me cry. Honestly. I love this speech and it's meaning and to delve deeper into all of that wasa a challenge but a rewarding one even if I want to tear out my hearts.**

**Reviews have been lovely, so thank you for those. I would love more if you have the time :)**

**Heather x**

**PS: You can request lines/conversations/reactions or moments. Just saying. **


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you kindly for all the reviews. I was watching A Good Man Goes to War which is filled with lovely moments to dissect, and I feel like this one doesn't get enough recognition. **

**As always, prompts are taken and reviews appreciated.**

**Heather x**

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_**"Well, they've seen you." **_

"Me?" He worried if he'd heard correctly. It couldn't be. The words hit him like a bucket of cold water had been drenched over him, the shock and realisation swimming in his mind. Him?

The Doctor didn't notice the rest of the words that fell from the Silurians mouth. _Well, they've seen you._ Him? He wasn't a weapon. He wasn't, he never meant to be any of that. He wasn't that. The Doctor fumbled backwards, sitting down, his thoughts rampant and clouded and confused. A weapon? All this, they had taken Melody Pond because he was viewed…as a weapon?

He wasn't that. He was never that. He never meant to be that. He was no weapon. Not a phantom, a goblin, a trickster, a ghost, a god…he was none of that. Why did everyone view him as that? It was everything he'd tried not to be. He tried to end wars, to save people to, to, to _help_. He was not this cruel imp that ran around space and time to terrorise people. He had never intended any of this. This wasn't him. He never wanted any of this.

But even his friends called him a weapon. Time Lord Victorious, the Oncoming Storm. Titles he wished never to have earned. He was not defined by them, he could not be defined by them. A soul crushing weight heaved onto the Doctor's hearts as he leant back.

"Me?" It was a whisper. A whimper. A small echo of lost purpose. What had he become? Who was he now?

All that time, all that space. He'd thought himself an old man. He was an old man. He'd started as one and that was how he went on. Was he so warped now? So changed? He was an old man, so old now that his vision became altered; became blurred. Lines changed and lengthened or moved further away before his eyes so that his morals changed with it. Would that exiled man from a red planet ever have done this? Gathered an army? He had refused to call it such in his mind, justifying it with his goal of rescuing Amy and Melody. But there was no denial. It was an army and he lead it. What was worse, was that an army faced him on the other side. Him.

The weapon. The Predator.

He had lost himself in these centuries. Tried to be funny and mad to deflect himself from his true madness, his anger. He'd told Manton it was new to be angry. It wasn't. So he was here. All that way from a Junkyard to Fort built against him. Not an order or a rule or a dictator. It was against him.

The Doctor.

How had he become blind?

How had he fallen so so far?


	4. Chapter 4

**Another great little moment from a Good Man Goes to War. Matt Smith was just divine in this bit!**

**I would love some more reviews though, just to see if you guys think I am getting all this right. I have 6 followers which is really cool!**

**Heather x **

**_They're always brave._**

He crouches at another body, yet another body. And he didn't even know her. He didn't remember her because he was so old. But she did. She had fought and died to help him and his friends. For him. And he didn't have the decency or the mental capacity to even remember her. So many faces, people, just add another one to the list. Such a long list. And it was there that he felt a white hot seed of anger through the mist and falls of sorrow.

Because it was his fault. He pushed and he pushed and it was the others around him that fell down, even when he tried to keep them up, tried to keep them alive, it didn't always work. Sometimes he felt as if it never worked. Not for one moment. Why did he keep doing this? All this? Why?

The never ending question. Why? Why did he keep it all going? Why did he never stop? Why couldn't he leave things well alone? Maybe if he did, then this wouldn't happen. Maybe if he had not landed in that garden then Amy and Rory would be married and have their daughter and blissfully normal human lives. It was all his fault, all of it. And in that moment, he understood how they all viewed him. The Mighty Doctor who never had a scratch on his face and disappeared and appeared in a shiny blue box wherever in the universe.

But that was because the scratches were underneath; seared onto his hearts like so many of their names.

And what for? What was the point of two hearts except to make more room for the names. The never ending list. Punishment. Punishment because death was a constant companion, the only constant companion because the rest all died or suffered worse than death. All due to him. What was it all for?


	5. Chapter 5

**Taken from a request from an anon on Tumblr! I hope you like it. Reviews were spectacular! Thank you so much dearies, I got a couple of prompts and they will be coming I assure you!**

**H x**

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**"And what's the alternative? Me standing over your grave?"**

The harshest of truths can be said by the softest of words. And he said them, staring into the face of his best friend whilst she was still breathing. All this time, she had been waiting for him. The Girl Who Waited…for him. It was a phrase he had never ended before today. He supposed it was quite poetic to think that now this chapter of her life was ending. He had to leave her, had to go. She was alive. His Pond, his glorious Pond was so alive.

And so many things had been taken from her. So much lost because of him. On the dark nights, he would think of how Amelia Pond's life may have been if he had not crashed in that garden, If he had not been 12 years late, if Melody had not been taken from them. Those were dark days, days where he had to go off for a week or so, get into an adventure or three whilst they were asleep. It was as if prolonging the inevitable.

Everyone died around him. But now here was impossible Amelia Pond- al grown up. She didn't need an imaginary friend anymore. She needed him to go, whether she knew it or not. If he stayed, then she would die. Truth was, it was hopeful to think of a grave, rather than ash or dust. It had almost come to that today, her death. It had almost come to that many times. So many lucky escapes, moments where he had thought her taken from him. So brave. So Scottish.

He smiled at her, because he had to. He had to prove he was going to be okay, that she was going to be okay. A normal, human life. It was a blessing. Something that the Doctor could never have. No, tis was better. He had never been able to…let one go before. Let his companion free. They were always taken from him, or left him. He didn't know which was worse, but it always ended the same. Him, alone. But now he made the choice, he was able to walk away and see her one last time before anything more happened to her- to all of them. It was the best thing he could do.


	6. Chapter 6

**Thank you for all the love from reviews!**

**Heather x**

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**"We're all ghosts to you. We must be nothing."**

He paused at that. There was truth in those words. Every step he took, any time he walked through, someone he knew would be dead. River. His wife that was so vibrant and alive was dead the day he met her. Rose Tyler was worlds away, with his own clone and happy and growing old. But the last he saw of her was New Year's 2005, and she was young and fine, and knew nothing of a blue box. There was Clara herself- a mystery girl who had died twice and somehow stood before him there, asking these questions, making assumptions.

He was everywhere and nowhere. No roots, not for him. He couldn't have the life that others did. Too restless. All he had for his troubles was two beaten hearts. He didn't know his own age anymore, he'd forgotten it or at least wished to. That was how old he was. But he didn't know how long. Not now.

They were all ghosts to him. Dead and gone. He travels forward 3000 years and Rory and Amy's grave will be crumbled and dust; their bodies will be dust. Mickey and Martha gone, he'd seen Jack die a hundred deaths to see him die for real, right before he even knew his old friend's real name. All of this, and he was the only constant, the only thing that didn't belong. How could Clara think that it was she, that it was the people of Earth that were ghosts?

He was the ghost.

He was the one who was always there, always never belonging, flitting into lives and then out of them, leaving devastation in his wake like a parasite or a poltergeist. The one who didn't belong, who faded in and out of history.

He was the ghost.

_They_ were not. And they were certainly not _nothing_. They were the only thing truly important to him.


	7. Chapter 7

**We gots another chapter! Yay! But it's sad...**

**Thanks for reviews, guys! I'd love a couple more though ;)**

**H x**

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**"Travel with me then."**

"Travel with me then."

It was a request for his wife. She said for him not to be alone, not to travel alone. So why could she not travel with him? He didn't want to be left on his own. He didn't handle alone very well, not at all. He couldn't be left…alone. Not now. Death was nothing new to him. But he hadn't been alone for over 300 years. He had always had the Ponds. And now they were gone.

Gone. He hadn't been able to say anything. She wouldn't stay. Amelia and Rory. Gone, just like the rest. And in that request he felt so vulnerable in front of River Song. Losing the Ponds had reminded him. Reminded him what he ran from. He ran from the end- always the end. The end of everything, the end of anything, the end of something. He hated them because he was always left behind. It was never his end, not truly.

But it had been the end of Rory and Amy.

It was his fault. He turned, he saw that grave. Maybe if he hadn't…he could've saved them. He could've saved Amelia at least. But he had seen it. He'd seen they had both died…he didn't go back and save them. So he was alone.

He couldn't be alone.

He asked her, his wife, to be his companion. He wanted her to stay with him. And he knows his time with her is only temporary. He knows she doesn't want to travel forever and she'll go back to her life as professor. She never needed him. But right now, he needs her. Maybe she will. Maybe she'll stay and she won't leave him alone. But she will die. That, that he couldn't stop. She will leave for the library and then he will be alone once more. But he didn't have to be alone now. He didn't want to be alone now.

All these years of having a family…and death has caught up with him again, stealing them away. River is the only one left. He needs her. He loves her.

But he can never have a proper life with her. She's already dead. Everyone is dead.


End file.
